


Grows Fonder

by regala_electra



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-28
Updated: 2011-04-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 23:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regala_electra/pseuds/regala_electra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> They don’t have to have their hands all over each other or make out until their lips are almost bruised though they’ve certainly enjoyed every opportunity to do just that.</i> Boys in shirts and sometimes out of shirts, indecent acts in a movie theater and the backseat of a car, or, ways to make long distance dating suck a little less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grows Fonder

**Author's Note:**

> Set after _Born This Way_. Thanks to Memphis for the audiencing.

He gets him in the between time.

 

*

 

They have Skype dates in the morning, laptops left on the edges of beds or desks as they flit about, rushing to different schools.

The first time Kurt sees him shirtless is a morning when Blaine rushes past his computer, hurriedly pulling his undershirt on while Kurt’s relating some odd lesson Mr. Schuester is teaching New Directions.

He doesn’t realize he’d been partially naked in front of Kurt until he’s buttoning his uniform shirt, glancing back at the screen where Kurt looks absolutely dumbstruck.

“Oh,” he says, trying not to nervously pat down the line of his chest. “You saw—”

“A glimpse,” Kurt answers, then he looks away, pushing at something, impossible to see.

He ought to make a joke of it, something to ease the tension coiling in his stomach and break the strange expression on Kurt’s face. Even with the less than perfect capture of Skype, there’s almost a glint to Kurt’s eyes but he’s not smiling. Not frowning either, but a joke or _something_ might make Blaine’s skin stop tingling and suppress the quick bolt of frustration that passes through him because he can’t walk up to Kurt this morning and kiss him and make everything better.

“I never confirmed if we were doing anything after school today,” he says, the words clumsy and slow on his tongue.

“No, we didn’t,” Kurt says, apologetic, his hand moving out of frame once more to grab his phone. He’s quick as he skims through messages, biting his lip and sighing. “Honestly, teal and sea foam green, what is she thinking? I’ll have to avoid looking directly at Rachel today. Sorry. Anyway, I promised Mercedes last week that we’d—”

“It’s okay,” Blaine cuts in. “Tomorrow’s Friday, and we were talking about seeing a movie. So. I’ll see you then.”

“It’s a good thing there’s nothing I want to see this weekend.”

“Oh,” Blaine tries very hard at keeping his face composed and it’s easy when Kurt’s not in front of the camera, but he falters when Kurt settles back into view, his boots in one hand. “So you don’t want to go out tomorrow? I mean, we could say in—”

“Blaine,” he says, simply and he shifts his laptop a little so he can look directly in the camera as he puts his boots on, beginning the long process of lacing them up. He can do it without sparing the laces a glance, an impressive feat. “It means I don’t have to pay attention.”

“Oh.”

“Yes,” Kurt says, rolling his eyes but he’s almost laughing under his breath too. “ _Oh_.”

“I miss you,” Blaine says and he wishes he hadn’t, because he’s stronger than that and while it’s mortifying to have a constant ache, it’s worse to say it out loud. Because that makes it real.

“You have me.” Kurt touches the tips of his fingers to his lips and brings it halfway towards the camera.

Blaine does the same as if they could actually meet in the middle.

“Tomorrow,” Kurt says because it isn’t a goodbye and Blaine agrees, ending the call.

 

*

 

Kurt can have him always.

Blaine isn’t ready to tell him that.

 

*

 

It’s not like he’s pathetically wasting away at Dalton, anxious for every chance to send a text to Kurt.

Yes, he does text Kurt a lot but it’s an equal distribution, swapping things that they won’t remember by the time they actually have time to talk. He gets quite a few from Mercedes as well, or Tina, and the rare one from Rachel, like the one he gets today, asking him if teal and sea foam green really don’t match.

 **I defer to the wisdom of my boyfriend**.

It probably shouldn’t still be so thrilling to type that out. One day maybe it’ll feel less new and just a simple comfort— _my boyfriend_. It’s strange how much Blaine is looking forward to that day.

If he’s lying to himself a little about how well he’s handling things, that’s natural. He’s not the first guy to date someone from a different school; all the straight boys at Dalton who are coupled up are dealing with a similar situation. Though the particular circumstances are a hell of a lot easier for them. There are stages, or so David, who had pulled him aside after Kurt announced his transfer back to McKinley, told him.

 _”It gets easier. But it sucks.”_

Not really advice, but Blaine needed to hear it then and needs to repeat it to himself now. _It sucks_.

He can spend hours in class distracting himself with things he needs to learn, unless he tallies up the moments he’s thinking about sex, because that doesn’t count. If some of his wandering daydreams are more Kurt-centric, well, he smells really fantastic as Blaine is intimately aware of and it’s just _Kurt_. No explanation necessary.

He’s walking to his car, very resolute in only thinking about his homework when his phone rings and he can’t help but smile at the image on the screen.

It’s completely unflattering: a mash of their faces pressed together and half-blurry. He’d taken it during the disastrous Night of Neglect benefit concert, but they hadn’t know that yet when they stood in front of Kurt’s old locker. Kurt tried to delete it but Blaine refused and then set it as Kurt’s incoming call image.

Blaine’s pretty sure Kurt’s set something embarrassing as Blaine’s picture on his phone but he hasn’t gotten a chance to see it yet. They’ll have plenty of opportunities to take even more awful photos together.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“You don’t even want to know,” Kurt says before launching into a tirade that Blaine happily listens to as he switches to his Bluetooth for the ride home.

 

*

 

He takes the back roads because there’s nothing quite like when Kurt’s really venting. It’s not at all like losing control or losing his temper because those are things that’s Blaine’s terrified of doing himself, it’s something else.

It’s power.

 

*

 

He calls Kurt around eleven, after he’s jerked off in the shower.

This a short, almost pointless conversation, relating a few anecdotes he’d forgotten to tell Kurt earlier in the day, spouting nonsense before sleep starts to kick in, a desperate gambit but he’s making tomorrow all that closer.

Kurt’s drifting off too. He mumbles briefly, “I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“Sorry.”

A slow chuckle. “No, you’re not.”

Blaine settles back into his pillow. “No, I’m not. Kurt. I—I’ll…see you tomorrow.”

He doesn’t get so much as reply as a noise of contentment.

 

*

 

He changes into what Kurt once dubbed his civilian clothes at Dalton so he doesn’t have to make the stop at his house, instead driving directly to Kurt.

They don’t kiss when Kurt opens the door or when Kurt invites him inside so they can kill time before heading out to the movie. They sit too close on the couch and Blaine tries very hard not to spend all that time trying to figure out the smoothest way to reach over and hold Kurt’s hand.

 

*

 

Kurt palms his cock halfway through _Dylan Dog: Dead of Night_.

It’s probably the hottest thing that Blaine’s ever experienced.

To think when they were buying tickets, Blaine had asked if going to see this movie might do the impossible and render them straight.

 _“A Brandon Routh movie?”_ Kurt had said, raising an eyebrow. _“Unlikely.”_

Then he’d smiled like he had a really good secret but Blaine hadn’t been able to pry it from him.

Blaine had been half-hard by the time the lights had dimmed and Kurt had kissed him without hesitation. Right now, his hard-on is probably a lot obscene and with Kurt touching him, it is so very difficult to stay quiet.

It’s probably rude to think about Brandon Routh while Kurt is stroking him through his jeans however in Blaine’s defense, his face is taking up much of the movie screen at the moment.

Blaine definitely needs a distraction to keep from coming in his pants instantaneously. A terrible movie ought to do the trick, but it’s _Kurt_ touching him and this really only has one painfully obvious conclusion.

He's going to come in jeans. But holding off is a good idea especially with the hot slide of Kurt's lips down the side of his neck.

It's not entirely comfortable straining against his zipper so he's got to make this a little less confining, knocking his knee with Kurt's as he spreads his legs, dragging out this hot noise from the back of Kurt's throat. It vibrates against Blaine's skin and forgive him if he shudders but holy shit. He thrusts hard when Kurt's hand works him a little faster and fuck his stupid zipper and sense of dignity, maybe it might be fine to just let go.

They’re too exposed. The back of the theater isn’t going to provide much coverage even with an audience barely a quarter full, someone’s going to notice. Kurt’s already opened up the top button on his jeans and Blaine bites back a moan, hitting his head on the back of the seat. He’s not ready to find out if he has a public exhibitionist streak. (If all signs point to yes, he’ll discover that later, after having many successful orgasms with his boyfriend.)

He stills Kurt’s hand, capturing his mouth in a blind attempt to get Kurt feeling the way Kurt can wreck him, a lot wild and unbalanced but so, so good.

“We don’t have to do this,” Kurt says and Blaine breaks a little at that.

They’re so good at the quiet moments but this is too big and Blaine’s screwing it all up. There’s nothing like simply walking side-by-side and knowing that he’s with _his_ boyfriend and they have each other. They don’t have to have their hands all over each other or make out until their lips are almost bruised though they’ve certainly enjoyed every opportunity to do just that. The act of being together is more than enough.

But what they have to do is be them and Blaine doesn’t want to force anything. Still, Kurt’s the one with the hand on _Blaine’s_ dick.

This feels good and whatever happens after more, if they’re not ready for it, Blaine’s not going to scrutinize what this means. But if Kurt doesn’t want to go further, then he has to put a stop to this before he does something really stupid. Like beg Kurt to let him come.

“Hey.” Kurt’s mouth is wet against his. He sucks Blaine’s bottom lip into his mouth and it’s a good thing Blaine’s really into this because it’s pretty much Kurt’s favorite thing to do, like his signature almost. “Are we going to leave or not? Or do you need a moment?”

Blaine does need a moment, as his brain is very slow to catch up, realizing they might have been having two different conversations, which isn’t surprising when he’s experiencing a very new and wonderful first time. “Leave the movie? You want to leave? So we can do what exactly?”

“Well, we could admire the upholstery of my car’s backseat. For a start.”

Blaine stares at him, the screen momentarily flashing enough light to see the clear color of Kurt’s eyes.

“That’s a good idea. I might need a moment.”

“I figured.” Kurt’s hand skims under his shirt and just when Blaine thinks he might do something crazy and dip lower, he heads upwards, pressing his palm flat against Blaine’s stomach before sliding back down, almost at his zipper. Then he takes his hand away, clasping both of his hands together, smirking in the darkness. “Shall we?”

Blaine might have made a noise like a broken sob. He’s not proud.

Not waiting for a response, Kurt’s already sauntering out of the theater, sparing only the most fleeting of backward glances.

Because he is not proud, he stumbles down the empty row to the back exit

If there are any eyes zeroing in at his obvious erection, he doesn’t notice. He’s probably making a complete ass of himself. He can barely walk normally and he kind of wants to chase after Kurt, which isn’t a good idea as he might get a little (a lot) handsy once he catches up to him.

Kurt turns once he gets to the glass exit doors, spinning neatly on his heel, thrusting back and popping the door open. With his ass.

Blaine is _dying_.

They’re lucky that they make it to the car without causing another bout of public indecency. By the time the rear driver’s side door is slammed shut, his hands are tangled in Kurt’s vest and he’s doing his damnedest to forget that there’s a beginning or end between their mouths.

There’s no good way of doing this, and by good, Blaine means perfect because isn’t that the point? It’s supposed to be perfect, easy, and carefree, a whole lot of adjectives they aren’t. He’s noisy and _sloppy_.

He’s an absolutely disaster, climbing over Kurt, and knocking his head against the roof as he scrambles for purchase.

“Shit.”

“Blaine? Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he lies. “Why are we stopping?”

Kurt’s fingers find the throbbing hurt at the crown of his head. “Because I don’t think giving my boyfriend a concussion is the best way to end our date.”

“It’s over?”

“No, Blaine,” Kurt says and he sounds a little irritated but mostly a lot concerned. His fingers feel nice in Blaine’s hair and he’ll probably have ridiculously rucked up hair by the time Kurt’s done but it’s very okay. “I thought this could make things better.”

It does. “Hey, it’ll be okay. You know I have a thick skull.”

Kurt laughs and it’s a ripe opportunity for teasing Blaine but he doesn’t take it. “That you do. We talk about everything but not about what happens next.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” It’s the first, most hysterical thought that springs to mind. He almost tries to knock Kurt’s hands out of his hair but Kurt uses it as a way to steady him.

“You _do_ have a concussion if you can think that. No, Blaine. I saw you shirtless yesterday and I’ve spent quite a bit of time planning these elaborate scenarios and— _you know_.”

“I don’t.”

“Taking care of—things,” he stops, looking away. “Don’t make me say it.”

He can touch Blaine in semi-public places but he can’t say that he’s been jerking off thinking about them having sex. It’s a relief, fleeting though it may be, to know he isn’t the only person here without any real clue.

“Kurt. I do that too.”

“But you haven’t seen me shirtless.” He looks up at Blaine through his eyelashes and if Blaine could pounce on him, he would, but look at that, he’s already on Kurt’s lap so maybe it’s time to actually do _something_ about this fortunate position.

“You’re right. Let’s take care of that.”

The vest buttons are easy enough or at least they should be. Kurt’s fingers _are_ still tangled in his hair; it’s very distracting. When Blaine gets the last button undone, he lays a hand on Kurt’s belt buckle. Waits for a moment and then yanks it open with absolutely no finesse.

Kurt rocks forward, tugging Blaine’s hair as he pulls him into a kiss. The delicious twist of arousal is new and Blaine quickly files that under _investigate further_ but for the moment, he moans loudly when they break away because he can.

“Pants off?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt mumbles against the corner of his mouth and oh, he feels it then, the press of Kurt hard against him. “I haven’t seen you in your underwear yet. Is that fair?”

“Both of us. Together.”

“Blaine,” he says, or nearly whines into his mouth. “I can’t—”

“I just. Can I touch you?”

“Only if I can too.”

He does it that instant. Twists his wrist so he can get his fingers past the evil barrier of Kurt’s jeans, sliding past the band of what Blaine guesses are briefs, maybe boxer-briefs. He’s giddy at the moment, not only because he’s about to feel Kurt’s dick but also at the thought of what color his underwear might be.

He finds the light trail of hair down Kurt’s belly changes into a larger patch of wiry hair. It’s not as dense as Blaine’s but it isn’t as smooth and it’s all _Kurt_.

Kurt’s been very still as Blaine explores him but he hisses suddenly, shifting back but not pulling Blaine’s hand out of his pants. One of his hands leaves Blaine’s hair and before he can complain about that, Kurt’s sliding down his zipper and pulling open his jeans and suddenly Blaine is now free to do a lot more maneuvering.

“Sorry. It was getting a little uncomfortable.”

“Now you know how I felt before,” Blaine says and trying for bitchy doesn’t really work when he’s still stroking the strange sensation of wiry hair and smooth skin, a contradiction he had no idea he could ever _love_ and yet all he wants to do is keep touching.

He’s stalling a little, too. There’s no going back.

Kurt’s a lot more direct, fingers stroking at the skin above Blaine’s jeans before he’s back at the front, faint scrape of dull nails against his exposed skin. “You still feel the same.”

The time for talking is over, Blaine decides.

He watches Kurt open up his jeans and pull his dick out of boxers, a bitten gasp not well hidden when Kurt’s holding him, trying to figure out the best angle. He pulls up once, his thumb passing over the head on the down stroke and if it weren’t for Kurt’s hold in his hair, Blaine would probably wind up giving himself a concussion for real this time.

Kurt uses the leverage to pull Blaine’s head back, out of harm’s away, as he sucks on his neck. He’s jerking him off with desperate eagerness and oh, Blaine can’t hold back and he _should_ because he hasn’t even had the opportunity to do the same to Kurt.

Blaine ought to, his hand is in Kurt’s underwear for crying out loud, but Kurt’s found this great spot on his throat and his pace is getting fast the way Blaine likes it when he’s close _and he’s so close_. Before he knows it, he’s spurting against Kurt’s hand, his jeans, his _everywhere_.

The lingering aftershocks have never dealt him such a blow but he’s aware of everything in this moment: the growing cold, that Kurt’s slackened his hold on his hair to stroke gently at the nape of Blaine’s neck, and how he’s never been so _relieved_ to come before.

“Thank you.” Blaine pitches forward, not intending to kiss Kurt but ending up there anyway.

“You’re welcome,” Kurt says or at least Blaine thinks he does, it’s hard to speak when Blaine’s doing his very best to keep on kissing Kurt until he gets his bearings.

“Will you let me show you?” His hand had slid over the lean cut of Kurt’s hip at some point, and he has to rectify that awful mistake.

He helps Kurt push down his jeans and briefs. They're dark in color, maybe purple, no, he decides, aubergine. Meaning Kurt accessorizes his underwear with the rest of his ensemble.

“God, Kurt,” he chokes out. “You’re amazing.”

Whatever snappy comeback Kurt’s ready to deliver is wiped away as Blaine’s _finally_ touching Kurt, wrapping a loose fist around him.

This is entirely about Kurt now, letting Kurt lead, and Blaine should try to pick up cues looking at Kurt’s face but it’s impossible to do that when he’s working his boyfriend’s cock and Kurt’s body is so damn expressive.

The pre-come’s making things a little slicker and the heat from him is making Blaine a whole lot reckless. He starts speeding up his strokes in time with Kurt’s moans, slowing down every now and then to get that really deep noise that he loves so much.

Kurt’s shameless pumping forward, fucking into Blaine’s fist. He’s not one to throw his head back instead he totally ruins Blaine’s perfect line of vision, clutching Blaine’s face, palms sweaty and maybe one’s a little sticky too. They didn’t really bother cleaning up, oh _god_ , they’re going to be covered in each other’s come.

No time to dwell on that thought when Kurt’s tongue is thrusting into his mouth, claiming him and maybe it’s pretty hot to know that this is Kurt’s undoing. His breath stutters into Blaine’s mouth when he’s coming. After, he pulls back a little from Blaine’s mouth before diving back in, biting Blaine’s bottom lip as a final parting shot.

Blaine collapses awkwardly against the door and half off of Kurt’s lap, pulling his boxers up, trying not to think about the mess.

“We should—” Kurt stares at him, his face beautifully confused. “Clean up?”

“Yeah. Give me a moment. My mind’s kind of stopped working.”

Kurt stares at his soiled hand and Blaine expects him to say something about it, how it’s different because it’s not his. What he doesn’t expect is Kurt _licking_ his palm. His face is unreadable.

“Okay,” he finally says.

“Okay?”

“Yes. One of us should get the tissues I have in the front.”

“I vote the driver.”

“I vote whoever came first.”

Blaine glares at him but Kurt is unlikely to relent. Sighing, he somehow manages to get his legs working again and grabs the tissues. This should be the weird part, the clean up, but it’s almost the best part. Well, not really, because Blaine’s not delusional, still, it’s almost nice, how they’ve both ruined each other a little bit, especially their clothes, but they’re better for it.

Kurt grumbles a little about how he’ll have to do a load of wash tonight but his smile is easy and bright. He lets Blaine hold his hand when he drives, mostly when they’re at stoplights but it still counts.

 

*

 

“We did it wrong,” Blaine says the next day when he’s over at Kurt’s place, ostensibly doing his homework. “I never got you out of your shirt.”

“We’ll have to fix that one day,” Kurt mumbles, not bother to glance over at Blaine as he flips the page of his book.

“You’re mean.”

Kurt throws his leg over Blaine’s. “I am. Your life must be terrible.”

“Sometimes my boyfriend makes out with me. It helps.”

 

*

 

The care package arrives a week later, the shirt neatly covered in Burberry-esque wrapping paper, so apparently Kurt can get anything made in Burberry. The shirt itself is plain white and if the black lettering hadn’t been printed so bold he could easily wear it under his uniform shirt.

He might try to get away with it one day.

It smells like Kurt.

He remembers the assignment New Directions had been working on first week Kurt got back to McKinley, how Kurt had huffed about what it meant to be _born this way_ before he finally said, “I’m going to wear something I’m proud of.”

Kurt’s note tucked into the care package isn’t written in his usual neat lettering. It simply says, _I hope it’s not too weird, but I’ve slept in this a few times. Enjoy?_

He thinks of it then, calling Kurt this very moment, wearing it, being encased in something that’s been wrapped around Kurt. It’s not a far leap from that to a vision of Kurt naked, something he’s only gotten bits and pieces of and still, not enough.

Blaine holds off on making the call to take care of the important task of immediately jerking off. Maybe it’s a little too desperate as he bypasses lotion in favor of getting off as quick as possible, rough, with only with spit on his palm as a temporary lubricant.

He’s a lot flustered when he does make the call and Kurt’s oblivious, asking Blaine if he liked the other things he sent out like there’s anything else but that shirt.

A shirt Blaine might just decide to wear tonight when he goes to bed.

When they near the end of the call, Kurt adds, almost unnecessarily, “So you have to give me something of yours. Surprise me.”

“I will,” Blaine promises.

 

*

 

Kurt gets him always. Any way he wants him.


End file.
